Warband
by MTGDragon5-1
Summary: Warning: Contains graphic violence and disturbing images. Will up rating if people say it is required. Ike Gawain's village is destroyed in the middle of a continent-wide war, and he sets out to create a band of mercenaries to hunt down and kill the men responsible. Meanwhile, Queen Zelda is confronted with a difficult decision that places the future of the continent in her hands


**WARBAND**

PROLOGUE

The rain had been continuing to fall for three months now. No breaks, just the constant rain showering down upon the capital. The priests had been calling it the judgement of Din, Goddess of Fire and Power – that she had abandoned King Roy for declaring his war, leaving the nation to the whims of Nayru, Goddess of Water. The rain was never enough to flood, it was just always there, and more drizzle than anything else.

Despite all of this, Roy's forces continued to push back those of King Marth of Altea's. Multiple envoys from both sides had been sent to Hylia, with Marth trying desperately to obtain Queen Zelda's aid, while Roy merely informed her that he seeked no trouble, but an alliance would be welcome. Everyone knew that if Zelda ordered the Hylian Knights to intervene, the tide of the war would swing dramatically according to her choice.

This was the knowledge that pressed down heavily on the current Meta Knight's mind as he strode into Roy's court, the silver sun of Altea on his cloak attracting glares from the red-armored guards. Meta Knight swallowed as the double doors opened, and the man announced his arrival.

"The Meta Knight of Altea"

The hall went silent immediately as Meta Knight approached Roy's throne. His jagged-edged bronze shortsword clattered against his armored leg, and the masked knight glared at the red-headed young king, who sat impassively on his cold stone throne. Swallowing down his hatred, the Meta Knight got down on one knee in front of him.

"Your highness, King Marth wishes for you to appreciate his message."

Roy raised an eyebrow.

"Is this message a plea for peace, an acknowledgement of defeat, or asking for my surrender?"

The Meta Knight looked Roy in the eye.  
"None. He wishes for your men to stop raiding his villages and face his armies in honorable battle or siege, but involve the peasants no longer."

Roy rose from his throne, his red cape draped around him like a curtain of blood – an image the Meta Knight found more than appropriate.

"Then you can return and tell my old friend that he clearly misunderstands the point of warfare. Should I leave my men without supplies and his well-nourished? That is a foolish mistake, that only the youngest and most incompetent of my tactician's _apprentices_ would make."

The Meta Knight rose, glaring at Roy from beneath his mask.

"If this is your answer, then I shall give you his response – he will never surrender. If you accepted, he may have yielded at some point, but now he is set on his path. He will deny you every step you take into Altea and force you to pay in blood for every inch."

Meta Knight's voice dropped much lower, and he whispered harshly.

"He wishes to make it known that he declares _Tyrfing_ upon Lycia."

The court broke into frenzied whispers as Roy raised an eyebrow.

"Marth has declared a _holy war_ upon me?" He asked in surprise. "Well, such a dark message must be responded to with a dark reply..."

The post of Meta Knight was rewarded to the finest knight of Altea, both in combat and political prowess. The bearer of the mantle gave up their identity to become Altea's ultimate guardian, their finest soldier and negotiator. The current Meta Knight had held the post for almost thirty years – long enough for him to know what Roy meant by that.

As Roy's guards moved forward as one, drawing their great swords in unison, the Meta Knight had already drawn Galaxia and was moving towards the exit. The two halberd-wielding guards at the door levelled their weapons at him, but the Meta Knight dropped to the floor and slid underneath the bladed sections of the staffs. Before the two could react, he cut off the leg of one before leaping in the air and stabbing the other in the throat. Leaving one dead and the other bleeding out, the Meta Knight ran from the court into the streets of Pherae. Ducking into a side alley, the Meta Knight flipped his cloak so that the silver sun wouldn't give him away, then hung his cowl over his head and walked calmly away.

He made it to the front gates before Roy's sword master, Rutger, confronted him. The Meta Knight's eyes widened in shock, and his hand shot for Galaxia – but Rutger's red-robed form had already drawn his curved blade, and it sped towards the Meta Knight's neck.

Rutger reached down and impassively pulled off the Meta Knight's mask, kicking his head towards Roy's approaching form. Roy stopped it with his foot, raising his eyes.

"An old man..." He chuckled. "Marth, if this was your finest soldier, then we will most surely win this war."

Turning his back, he gave two of his guards a brief set of orders.

"Return the Meta Knight's mask, sword and cloak to Altea, along with his head. Then find General Wolf."

Roy's eyes narrowed into a sharp glare.

"Tell him to select any village in Altea, and _wipe it off the map_"

W-A-R-B-A-N-D

Pain flared through Ike's back as he dragged himself out from underneath his shattered home. He grabbed hold of something and pulled himself up, and then finally opened his eyes, dropping what he'd assumed had been a stick and vomited onto what used to be his floor. Gasping for breath, he turned away from the brutalized form of his sister and stumbled out into the rest of the village.

"Father...father..."  
Ike stumbled into the center of the village, where a heap of red-armored soldiers lay in a circle. In the centre, the shattered corpse of Ike's father Greil lay with multiple spears jutting from his chest, a bloodied sword in his hand. Ike sank to his knees, and slowly opened Greil's tensed hand to retrieve the old bronze-colored bastard sword.

"This stinks. How come Wolf gave us the leftovers while he moved on?"

"I don't know, just shut up and get on with it – live one!"

Ike hid underneath his father's corpse as the guard's laughter followed a sickening, wet _schlurp_ that cut a scream short.

"Well, that's the whole village covered. Let's see if what's left of their tavern has any beer."  
Ike's grief was buried beneath rage and fear and rage and – and –

He saw red, standing up with Greil's sword in hand and shouting after the soldiers. As the two turned, he ran towards them screaming with rage, drawing the blade back – and then the red became white, and his father's lessons reasserted themselves. He skidded to a stop as the spears jabbed out, barely avoiding being impaled, and settled into a low stance, holding the bastard sword two-handed and pointing it at them, snarling.

"Kid, don't be an idiot. We can let one go, we've had a long day, and we didn't like doing this." One of the soldiers spouted, recognising the stance that killed dozen of his friends.

"You'll get no sympathy from me." Ike snarled. "You came here and killed my family...my friends...everything..."

Ike's glare sent shivers down their spines. One soldier rushed him, but Ike's sword slid under his spear and batted it away, spinning and using the momentum to decapitate the soldier. Blood sprayed over Ike's face, but he was beyond caring. The second advanced slower, and Ike went on the offensive, slashing from side to side and forcing his spear to be used defensively. Getting inside the soldier's guard, Ike's stab took him through the stomach. Growling, Ike pulled himself up inside the soldier's face.

"Who sent you? TELL ME WHO DID THIS!"

The soldier's mouth leaked blood, but he still managed to get out a brief gasp before he expired.

"Ge...General Wolf of Lycia..."

Ike pulled his sword out and delivered the mercy blow. Then, in the middle of his destroyed home, surrounded by the corpses of his friends and family, he sank to his knees and finally allowed himself to cry.


End file.
